


Whatever Happened to Tevildo Prince of Cats?

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crack, Gen, resolving differences between versions of the legendarium in silly ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mairon is jealous of his master's favourite maia. But it happens that said maia has also been breaking the rules as far as betrayal goes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever Happened to Tevildo Prince of Cats?

“Mairon.  _Mairon!_ ”

 

Mairon skidded to a halt in front of his Lord’s throne, slightly out of breath. Melkor was draped lazily over it, squinting at a sheaf of letters. A tiny pair of reading glasses was perched on his nose.

“Yes, my Lord?” Mairon bowed with a flourish.

“Have you seen these? Reports from the field. It would appear we have a traitor in the ranks.”

“ _Again_ , my Lord? Honestly, those orcs… What do they want now? Don’t tell me they’re picketing Thangorodrim again. Frankly, that last time was embarrassing for all concerned.” Mairon cringed at the memory. Overseeing the slaves washing the painted words “we are the 99%” off the side of a mountain was not his idea of a fun way to spend a weekend.

“I’m afraid it’s higher up than that. Much higher up.”

Mairon raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested.

“It’s Tevildo.”

“The Prince of Cats?” Mairon attempted keep the delight out of his voice. Tevildo had long been his greatest rival for position amongst the higher ranking servants of Melkor, and the Dark Lord knew it.

“Indeed” said Melkor, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement as he saw Mairon’s undisguised glee. “It seems he has been plotting against me, Mairon. Thinks he can become the new Dark Lord. Ha! I have spies in his halls. Ever since that incident with the mortal, the elf girl and the Silmaril - ” he winced a little at the memory, eyes darting upwards towards where there was a ragged hole in his iron crown “ – he has been planning to try his luck. He thinks he can get to me. Also, it would appear that  _someone_  has been whispering about my one weakness.”

Mairon blushed, but still managed to stammer a reply, feigning innocence. “W-weakness, my Lord? Surely not. Who would possibly say such things?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Mairon my darling, perhaps… the one person who  _knew_  that I was allergic to cats?”

Mairon swallowed nervously. “I may have… accidentally mentioned… the circumstance were exceptional…”

“Interesting way to say that the two of your were drunk at the balrogs’ summer party…”

Mairon stared at his shoes.

Melkor laughed, cupping Mairon’s chin and pulling his face back up so that they were making eye contact. “And yet… now the traitor has been exposed. And I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything, my Lord” said Mairon, trying not to let too much relief show in his eyes.

Melkor leaned down and whispered in his ear. “I need you to have him killed” he said bluntly. “Do it yourself, if you have to, but nothing creative. I don’t want any… mess. He needs to disappear from the records. All his deeds, the incident with Beren and Lúthien in which he won his fame… overwrite them. Put yourself into the story instead, if you like, although at least make it look like you made a few mistakes, so that it’s not  _entirely_  obvious. He wanted renown, a place in history, greatness, but he made a mistake to plot to take it from me. Make him disappear, Mairon.”

“I… I will my Lord.” Mairon’s mind was whirring, plans already forming. All those cats, with their lashing tales and their bright eyes… he would need all of the werewolves in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, and perhaps even more. As many as he could gather together. He would call them tonight, taking on a wolf’s shape and howling at the moon. And then there was the logistical challenge of erasing every record of the existence of a great Maia. But he would do it, somehow. His life, he reflected unhappily, quite possibly depended on it.

His thoughts were interrupted by an orc guard, who had stood unnoticed in the shadows and had been summoned by a flick of Melkor’s finger, taking hold of his shoulders and gently but firmly steering him towards the door. As he was crossing the threshold, he heard his Lord’s voice behind him again. Melkor was smiling sweetly when he turned around, one leg again draped over the arm of the black stone chair.

“Oh and Mairon, darling? If you  _do_  return… make sure not to come back covered in cat hair…”


End file.
